When We Were Young
by Min Daae
Summary: Written for Yuletide 2009. The family of Nolofinwëans in happier days. Aredhel, Fingon, and Turgon share a family moment.


Aredhel learned at a very young age that her brothers hated to see her cry. It did not take her long after that to infer that crying was a very good way to get them to agree with her when they were being stubborn.

It was not that she always wanted them to do what she wanted, it was just that they were occasionally so – serious, and she just wanted them to live a little, and she was certain that if it weren't for her intervention, Turgon would spend all of his time reading and Fingon would spend all of his time…playing with his hair, or whatever her eldest brother found to fill his time.

Well, and sometimes it was nice to get her way, too.

Actually, it worked with most of the men in her family. As soon as she batted her eyelashes and teared up, or sniffled, they hopped to do what she wished. Except for her uncles. And her father. He usually indulged her anyway, but he would only laugh and pick her up and swing her around, when she was small enough for it, and then she couldn't help but laugh too. "I love you very much," she said, solemnly, and he kissed her nose and told her to go play.

Her father, she solemnly told anyone who would listen, was very brave and very wise and very good at pretending to be a horse. Fingon always seemed mortified when she brought this up, but everyone else seemed to find it amusing, so she continued telling it to anyone she met until her father told her, with a slightly pained trying-not-to-laugh expression that she couldn't tell people that anymore.

There were other stories, anyway.

In a circle of light in the trees, she sat on a stump, posture regal and confident, and played at being Queen. It wasn't going very well. Fingon was in a bad mood, and even if Turgon did roll his eyes a little – he thought she didn't notice, ha! – it was Fingon who kept trying to argue with her.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?"

"I'm not in a bad mood." He kicked a tree-trunk. He'd been moody and sullen lately, and her mother said that he was 'going through a phase' whatever that meant.

"Are so. Isn't he in a bad mood, Turukano?"

"I'm not going to get involved in this," said her second oldest brother, almost primly. She stuck out her tongue at him and looked back at Fingon.

"If you have a problem maybe I can fix it!" Drawing herself up and trying to salvage the game, she added, "I _am _the Queen."

"You can't," he said, "And it's just a _game,_ stop it."

She could have teared up and he would go along with her, but she didn't want to do that. It wouldn't be fair. She sat down again and crossed her arms. "You're always in a bad mood. Why are you always in a bad mood?"

"You wouldn't get it, Ireth." He kicked a rock across the clearing. "You're too little."

"I'm not that little. I'm bigger than the twins."

Fingon snorted. "Everyone's bigger than the twins. That's why they're the youngest." Aredhel frowned at him. She knew that, of course, and when he put it that way it made her sound so stupid. That wasn't very good of him. She wasn't stupid, either.

"If you make that scowly face all the time you know it's going to stick that way."

"I am not! That's a _myth._"

Aredhel shook her head solemnly. "No, it's not. Daddy told me it." She stuck out her tongue, defiantly. "Or maybe you should just go be with Maitimo, he's all frowny too. Is it a special pact just for you two to be grumpy all the time?"

The tips of Fingon's ears turned slightly pink. "No – no! Don't be silly."

"Do you tell _him_ what's bothering you?" She swung her feet back and forth, knocking her heels against the stump. "It's not that I don't like him," she added, "He just needs to laugh more. Him and Maukalaurë both, they never laugh hardly at all, and even Maitimo used to and he doesn't now, why?"

Fingon muttered something inaudible and Turgon made a muffled sound that might have been a laugh. "Come, sister," he said, unfolding gracefully. "We should be going back. Night's starting to fall." He was still shorter than Fingon, but not by too much. She was quite a bit smaller than either of them, though. Not that she minded. That way they could reach all the things she wasn't supposed to be able to get to. It was a good thing about being friends with Tyelko, too, and he was even better at doing what she wanted – not that that was the only thing she liked about him, not at all.

"It's not even a little dark yet," she complained, but got off her stump and hop-skipped over to Fingon, putting her hand in his and frowning up at his extra-serious face. "It makes me sad when you look like that," she told him, and stuck her lip out dramatically. He blinked, startled, then laughed and ruffled her hair.

"All right, all right, fine. You heard Turukáno. Our cousins are going to be with us – not your favorite cousins," he said, looking almost amused, "No, Artanis, Findarato – them."

"Oooh," said Aredhel, just to bother her brother, and he glared at her. Turgon looked back at them.

"Aren't you coming, then?"

"I'm coming!" She said cheerfully, "Fingon's just being slow," and dragged him along as he groaned, good-naturedly. She looked up at the sunset sky as they came free of the trees and spun in a little circle, arms out, when suddenly she was scooped up into the air. Aredhel shrieked good-naturedly, even if she could hear her father's deep and comforting laughter as he boosted her up into his arms.

"Ata," said Fingon, flushing, and abruptly straight and serious again. "I am sorry – we lost track of time, it's my fault-" Of course, that was him, he wanted to make sure they wouldn't get in trouble, and that daddy would approve of him, even if Aredhel knew that their Ata loved them more than anything, all of them.

"You're not late, Findekáno. I was just coming to see if I could find you." She nestled her face in his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the way he smelled and listening to the soothing sound of his voice. "You're in no trouble, no need to look so scared. I hope I am not that frightening to my own son."

Fingon went visibly limp with relief, though Turgon was right at his shoulder, still frowning with concern. Aredhel cut in. "He was being all frowny," she said, seriously. Fingon flushed.

"Sometimes boys will do that, Irissë. You musn't take it too seriously. And I'm sure as soon as you smile they'll forget all about their troubles." He tapped her nose playfully. "You, my lady, may have the whole world around your little finger one day."

She frowned slightly. "Is that a good thing?" And he laughed, and even if she wasn't sure why she laughed too. Turgon fell into stride beside them, though Fingon hung back, still embarrassed.

"Ata, I'd like to talk to you about something I've been reading, when you have the time-"

"My serious, intelligent boy. Very well. After supper, perhaps? Though soon enough I suspect you will outpace my knowledge."

"Never," Turgon said, faithfully, and Aredhel nodded in solemn agreement. She could see their home through the trees and he set her down, paused.

"Go along, you two. I need a word with your brother." Aredhel ran back to kiss Fingon's cheek before starting off, though she paused and looked back, and just overheard her father say, his hand on Fingon's shoulder and expression solemn again, "I think it's time," and nearly giggled with delight, turning to run the rest of the way back.

"Fingon's getting a sword of his own," she whispered to Turgon, taking his hand. He blinked, then laughed. People said he never laughed, but Aredhel knew better. He just needed a reason to. Turgon shook his head and did not reply, but even once they were inside she waited eagerly by the door.

Fingon burst in only moments later, grinning ear to ear, and knelt to hug her so tightly her ribs creaked. "Mother! Ireth! Ata says – Ata says that I can have my own blade now-" And Aredhel shrieked in glee, "I told you, I told you!" and Fingolfin opened the door, smiling as their mother looked up from her needlework. He was smiling, eyes full of pride.

"Best be calm, or Arafinwë will think he's found a madhouse rather than his family."

"What difference does it make, really," said someone, amused, from the door, and her father turned to embrace his younger brother, and from the floor where she sat as Fingon bounded around the house like an over-excited colt, she looked around at her family, and everything was just as it needed to be.


End file.
